


Veritas Liberabit Vos

by Lemon_Drizzle



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, POV First Person, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-19
Updated: 2015-12-19
Packaged: 2018-05-07 15:32:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5461766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lemon_Drizzle/pseuds/Lemon_Drizzle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The reader accidentally ingests an intoxicating powder and becomes a lot looser with her words than she's used to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Veritas Liberabit Vos

An instant before Sam’s bullet takes him down, the witch unleashes one last kinetic spell, knocking me across the room and into his workbench. I topple over with it, and for all the bowls and small bags of powders, I only inhale one ingredient—and that’s just because it lands on my face. I sit up, wipe the remnants of something golden from around my nose and mouth, and sneeze three times.

“Bless you,” Sam mumbles reflexively from across the room, where he is cleaning up what’s left of the witch’s body.

Sam. My brother—or near enough, since he and Dean showed up at my house in Oregon—my haunted house. They were too late to save my parents from the poltergeist, but I was actually the one to save the Winchesters, when it came down to it. My natural hunting skills, brains, and protective instincts impressed the two men enough for them to invite me to join their team on a trial basis, and all these years later, I’m pretty much a member of their family in all but name.

Dean comes stomping up the attic stairs and into the room, and my heart flutters, stutters, and finally remembers how to beat. I feel myself blush and wipe my cheeks, my fingers coming away with more golden powder.

“Got the apprentice downstairs,” Dean says. “Nice job, Sammy.” He looks over at the upended table, able to see nothing of me behind it except my head. “Woah, hey, Y/N, y’all right?”

“I’d be a whole lot better if you got your cute little butt over here and helped me to my feet,” I say before I even realize I’m speaking.

Dean looks confused for only a second, but then he chuckles and crosses the room. “As you wish.”

He holds out both of his arms, and my hands slip into his. They are like him—rough but warm, strong, scarred. Deadly. They are my favorite thing about him—okay, everything is my favorite thing about him, but his hands beat everything else out by the tiniest of margins.

He pulls me up, and a very audible sigh escapes from my lips. “Damn, you’re strong. The way your muscles flex, I’m surprised your sleeves don’t rip right open.”

His brow furrows again, but he must think it’s some sort of joke. I never say things like this to him. I never say things like this at all. I don’t flirt—I don’t chat up men at the bars we all go to some nights. What’s the point? My heart’s spoken for, by the perfectly flawed, perfectly clueless human being in front of me.

I pull out of his grasp, and he walks away to help Sam cleanse the witch’s ashes.

“Man, I hate to see you go, but I love to watch you leave.”

I clamp my hand over my mouth at the same time both brothers look over from their work.

“Y/N, are you sure you’re all right?” Dean asks again.

“I’m never quite so at peace or ever in so much agony than when I’m with you, Dean,” I tell him softly. Then I comprehend that I have actually said that, and I spin on my heel and cross the room to look for my gun where I think it landed under an old chest of drawers.

“Y/N, what’s on your face?” Sam asks.

“Some kind of yellow powder,” Dean answers simply. “And she’s acting weird… I don’t know. She might’ve breathed something in or ingested something.”

“Yeah, talk about me like I’m not here,” I say on my hands and knees in front of the bureau. My gun is definitely down here. “You wouldn’t notice me if I put on a grass skirt and danced the hula on the dining room table.”

I don’t see the guys share a look so much as feel it—good instincts, remember? I lift my head, my creased brow adding to theirs, knowing my face is as red as the spatters of witch blood on the floor. Then I turn away and continue my search for the damn gun.

“Okay, we should get back to the motel,” Sam says calmly. “Y/N, what are you looking for?”

“My gun. I thought it landed over here when I went flying through the air with the greatest of ease,” I reply.

I hear footsteps and the sound of shuffling around in the stacks of old newspapers behind me, and then Dean says, “Found it. You were close. Now let’s get the hell out of here. Come on.”

He kicks my boot.

“Hey,” I snap, rising to my feet, managing to look intimidating even though Dean has always towered over me. “Look, buddy, I only like being told what to do in the sack.”

His eyes widen in shock, and my mouth falls open like I’ve just been punched in the gut. I grab my firearm from his hand, put it back on my hip, and march out of the room and down to the car.

I’m waiting with my arms crossed in the backseat by the time they appear in the doorway of the abandoned house. They get in the front, and Dean starts us back to the motel that’s been our home for the past week. One more night, and then we can head home for real.

If I can still call it that, by the time we get back. If what’s happening to me doesn’t ruin what we’ve spent years building, what I’ve spent years accepting is as good as it’s going to get with Dean. But as good as it’s going to get is pretty damn good besides. I’m with him every day—I share in his happiness, and I commiserate in his pain. And Sam is my best friend—he knows all my deepest, darkest secrets…well, all but one.

I’ve made sure never to utter one word about my feelings for Dean—there was no point. For one thing, I’m not his type—I saw the women he went home with every once in a while after a night at the bar. I didn’t stand a chance. And for another, if I suddenly did find the gumption to confess my love and adoration for the man, and then he politely rejected me, I might actually die—the mortification could literally stop my heart and kill me. So, the better option was clearly to admire from afar and just be the best damn hunter I could be.

But now every time I opened my mouth, I seemed to say something embarrassing hinting at my hidden desires, and came closer and closer to watching my platonic relationships with the Winchesters go up in flames. I swear, if I knew how much trouble that witch was going to get me into, I would have killed him myself—and much slower and more painfully too.

I’m sitting behind Sam and looking out at the scenery when out of the corner of my eye, I see Dean reach into his breast pocket and hold out a crumpled napkin to me.

“Wipe that shit off your face, Y/N,” he says. “Whatever it is, you shouldn’t keep breathing it in or absorbing it through your skin or anything.” He clears his throat. “And we should get a sample of it for research.”

“You’re so smart, Dean,” I sigh, taking the napkin and doing my best to remove the rest of the golden powder. “And so considerate. Such a smart, considerate, little squirrel.” Then I groan in frustration and hit my head on the window.

“Take it easy, Y/N,” Sam soothes. “We’ll figure out what’s going on.”

“We all know what’s going on, Sammy,” I reply. “You’re sweet, but you’re also the smartest one of us. If I understand, you understand.”

“And Dean’s not far behind,” Sam teases.

Dean punches his brother’s shoulder in play.

“Nah, he’s no idiot,” I can’t help but say—really. “Brains run in your family. If it didn’t, you guys’d be dead. Again. For good. And that’d be awful. Not just because of the War. I’d miss you so much. You’re my family. I love you.”

I groan again, much louder, and scrub my skin raw trying to get the powder off. It’s too late, though—the damage has been done, from what I already ingested through my nose and mouth.

When we reach the motel, I’m the first one out of the car and into our connecting rooms. I have books at my desk open to truth potions before they get inside.

“Y/N, why don’t you drink a lot of water and try to flush it out of your system,” Dean suggests from the doorway connecting our two rooms, flipping through an old tome himself.

“Because water intoxication, sweet-cheeks,” I mutter.

He clears his throat and goes back to his book.

Sam appears with his laptop. “What can you tell me about the powder, Y/N?” he asks. “Was it just the yellow one you breathed in or swallowed? Did it smell like anything? Taste like anything?”

“Just the golden one, as far as I know. No smell, but it tasted like pineapple.”

“Pineapple?” Dean repeats.

“Pineapple.”

We’re all silent for a moment, then Dean says, “Bet this is gonna ruin Hawaiian pizza for you.”

“It’s gonna ruin a lot more than that, Dean-o,” I mumble.

“Hey, don’t underestimate us,” Sam says, coming up beside me and squeezing my shoulder. “You’re our family. And no crummy potion from some crummy witch can stop that from being true.”

“Thanks, Sam. You’re the nicest person I know.” I lean into his touch.

“What am I, chopped liver?” Dean scoffs.

“No, you’re the most considerate person I’ve ever met,” I tell him. “There’s a difference.”

He looks at his brother, then back at me, and then back to the text in his hands.

“Nice hands,” I say aloud. “Hey, there’s something nice about you, Dean. Your hands. And your ass. If I were more than halfway decent at math, I’d get the equation of the curvature of your butt tattooed on my arm. That way, even when you’re not around, I’d have that work of art in front of me.”

Sam’s mouth is gaping open. Dean’s jaw is clenched like a vice. They’re staring at me, fascinated…but more than a little embarrassed.

“Please gag me,” I say. “I know it’s only going to get worse, and I can’t stand to have you guys look at me like that.”

“That’s not necessary…” Sam starts.

“Especially you, Dean.” I feel something well up inside my chest like a pressure cooker.

“No, let it out, Y/N,” he tells me. “Who knows what’ll happen if you bottle it—”

“You have eyes like a Disney princess!”

His words die on his lips like my heart dies in my chest. But I cannot stop myself.

“I looked into those eyes when two fake F.B.I. agents came to my house after my parents died in those staged suicides, and I knew that everything was going to be okay!”

I’m shouting now, scaring myself as much as I’m sure I’m scaring them. I stand up, and they both take a step back.

“Sometimes I wonder what my life would be like if you guys hadn’t come along! Or if I’d sold that haunted house before you caught on to the poltergeist! And it always feels like my heart is being ripped out of my chest—with which I have personal experience, thanks to that deranged cherub last year!”

I’m in front of them before they can react, and then I push them through the doorway and back into their room, and slam the door and lock it from my side.

Two distinct patterns pound on the door.

“Y/N!”

“No, Dean, stay out! You too, Sam! I can do this research without you, and you can do it without me! You can…”

I collapse in the chair at my desk.

“You can get along without me,” I finish to myself. It must be true, then.

Two hours later, I’ve figured out it’s not a truth potion—the pineapple gave it away. Veritas concoctions are bitter and pungent, because no matter how much people value honesty, the truth bites. It cuts, sometimes deep.

But pineapple is sweet and tart—it makes the tongue tingle and dance. It’s freeing. When I ingested the golden powder, I freed my inhibitions. And my only significant inhibition has been my feelings for Dean.

Someone raps on the connecting door.

“I got cheeseburgers,” Dean calls through. “C’mon, Y/N, open up. I know you haven’t eaten since breakfast.”

“As much joy as it brings me just to see your stupid face,” I reply, “I’m not risking opening that door, in case this condition has moved past verbal disinhibition to now include the physical. Because I would like to climb you like a tree, buddy.”

“Um…uh…I…er…” he stutters.

I groan and cover my mouth, too late. “See? Just go away! Agh!” I fist my hands in my hair and pull.

“Y/N, we need to talk.”

“Oh, there’s really no point. I know exactly what you’re going to say.”

“No, I—”

“And don’t worry, the effects of the powder should wear off by the time we get back to the bunker, so we’ll have peace and quiet when I pack up my stuff.”

“Y/N, open this door, or I will kick it down!”

There’s no way I can’t follow his direction when he uses that tone of voice. I get up slowly, unbolt the lock, and pull open the door. Dean stands in front of me with a fast-food bag in one hand, two glasses in the other, and a bottle of scotch under his arm.

“Look, Dean, you really think introducing another intoxicating substance into my system is a good idea?”

“Maybe they’ll cancel each other out,” he shrugs. “Gonna let me in?”

“I’ll let you do anything you want if you ask nicely enough.” I hang my head and step aside. As he puts everything down on the desk, I notice the stillness of the boys’ room. “Where’s Sam?”

“He went to a movie. Because we need to talk.”

“I would really rather we didn’t, Dean. Uh…” I feel a tightness in my chest and behind my eyes. “I went years without letting you know that I’m in love with you.” I sniffle, and a couple of tears fall down my cheeks. I shake my head and tell myself to be strong. “I made that choice! And that…witch took that choice away from me! You weren’t supposed to…”

“I wasn’t supposed to what, Y/N?” he asks softly.

“These were my feelings! I had a right to them, to keep them for myself! And you weren’t supposed to find out! I wish you’d never found out!”

I sit down on the bed. He stands by the desk for a moment, then comes to take a seat next to me.

“Do you really?”

“Hello, I haven’t been able to lie for hours, Dean.” I wipe the wetness from my face with the backs of my hands. “I was happy the way things were. I was happy just to be around you, just to hunt with you. I never told you for a reason. I didn’t want to risk our friendship.”

He silently absorbs what I’ve said, and then he takes my hand in both of his. “Y/N, did it really never cross your mind that I didn’t want to risk our friendship either?”

“What? No…”

“That you’re one of the bravest and smartest hunters I’ve ever met or even read about?”

“I…”

“That you also have the funniest heart, and the most beautiful soul? That I was happy enough just to be around you too?”

My mouth drops open for a change. “You didn’t get that golden stuff up your nose while you were analyzing it, did you?”

He grins. “No. I just… I'm making the choice that the witch took away from you. I don’t want you to leave because you think it’s unbearable for you to stay, now that you know I know how you feel. I don’t want you to leave because you think I don’t care about you like that.” He turns to me and holds my face in his hands. “I don’t want you to go another minute without hearing it from my own lips… I’m in love with you too, Y/N.”

I want to laugh and cry at the same time for the euphoria welling up inside of my chest, but I just throw my arms around his waist, and he wraps his arms around my shoulders and pulls me close. With my head against his chest, I can hear his heart racing joyfully along at a pace to match my own.

“I still want to climb you like a tree,” I can’t help but admit. “But not like this.”

“Hey, I understand. No funny business until we’re home at the bunker. Anyway, these walls are as thin as paper.”

I blow a raspberry, and he pulls me down to lie across the bed with him.

“Tonight, it’s just burgers, booze, and the Holiday Baking Championship marathon on Food Network.”

“Man, I love you.”

“I love you too, Y/N.” He turns my face to his. “I’m sorry you didn’t have a say in the matter, but I can’t say I’m sorry for how it all played out.”

I smirk and run my fingers through his hair. “Neither can I.”

He holds my chin between his thumb and the crook of his finger, and presses his lips to mine. Then he pulls back and cocks an eyebrow. “Do you really like being bossed around in the sack?”


End file.
